Shamrocks with Tea
by BarracudaHeart
Summary: "She sure knew how to irritate him."  Drabbles centering mostly around Ireland/England.  Other pairings: US/UK, onesided Scotland/Ireland, and Northern Ireland/Sheep.  Rated T for fluff and implied activity.


**So these are some little England/Ireland drabbles that I made. Very fluffy for some of them... My characterization of Ireland (the Republic) is a female, so no yaoi really. Other pairings in this are PAST US/UK (please don't lynch me, I actually like this pairing), and onesided Scotland/Ireland. **

**Hooray for historical inaccuracies! I know about the massacres or whatnot brought on by UK towards the Irish republic or the other way around. I'm not going to bluntly throw them out into the stories, because as we all know, Hetalia is a spoof of nations and their stereotypes, not the history channel. England and Ireland is more of a silly pairing than a serious one, and they share a love/hate relationship most of the time. But I will attempt to add more historical value to my later stories.**

**And I don't consider it an incest pairing since Himaruya doesn't actually know their relationship. I consider them more of rival countries instead of siblings. My characterization of Northern Ireland is younger than Ireland, and considers her his one and only sibling. He considers England a caretaker rather than a brother. I used the Irelands in my other fanfic, "Talent Night", and you can read their traits there...**

**Human names used: **

**England: Arthur Kirkland**

**Ireland: Mallory Quinn (changed, because I learned Wink is not an Irish surname(Thank you to whoever gave me that review!))**

**Northern Ireland: Colin Molony (because Shay wasn't an Irish surname either) (But they just call him North)**

**Scotland: Angus**

**America: Alfred Jones**

**Hetalia(c) Himaruya**

* * *

><p><strong>Game<strong>

It was supposed to be a little game of shots. _Just one_ she said, _Just one little game_. It however ended with both Mal and Arthur on the floor, passed out, or giggling. _Oh well_, Alfred thought smiling to himself, _They're not fighting at least_.

**Glances**

Whenever they sat, waiting for the meetings to start, they didn't mind each other really. Except they couldn't help but take those quick secret glances at one another.

**Eyes**

"Say Ireland, how come your eyes aren't green?"

"Hm? Why would they be green?"

England raised an eyebrow, "You _are_ the 'Emerald Isle' aren't you?"

"...oh I see."

She then took his hand, and showed him over the cliffs by the sea. The bright turquoise water matched her eyes.

"Do you see the ocean in my eyes?"

"I guess so..."

"Well there you go."

_The ocean is calm in her eyes..._ thought England.

**Waltz**

Austria put the needle on the record. "Now I will need two people to demonstrate the waltz."

A few nations groaned. How they were talked into attending these Austrian ballroom lessons, they'd never know. Perhaps it was the promise of food.

Austria waited a moment, then pulled England who stood quietly in the front, and Ireland who was on the other side, daydreaming about her potato stew recipe.

"Here now, you two know how to waltz right?"

They both nodded slowly.

Austria then said, "Well, demonstrate it then."

Both shot a bewildered look at eachother, then at Austria. "You cannot be serious!" They said together.

"Please just demonstrate it, and we'll all get along."

Giving an annoyed snort, Ireland stuck her hand out for England to take, not looking at him. He simply grabbed her hand roughly.

Austria then said, "Do it gently, and remember, a gentleman kisses his lady partner's hand."

This emitted a couple chuckles from the other nations, knowing this would be interesting to see. Visibly unsettled in his face, England reluctantly bowed his head down to kiss the back of Ireland's hand with a quick peck. She simply had her eyes closed in annoyance.

Ignoring the horribly hidden laughter from some of the other countries, Ireland apathetically curtsied, and slowly along with England, they took each other's hands and began the first steps of the waltz.

They simply danced the steps, fluidly, but not with much care. But as the music continued, the steps got a little lighter, and they began to dance at a calmer pace, and the whole time, they didn't look at each other.

Austria then lifted the needle and said, "I think that will do. Now everyone else can try it."

Ireland looked over to England, and with a smirk, said, "Not bad Brit."

England simply replied, "In my case sure, for you, I'd say average."

She simply smirked, knowing how he could be such a snot sometimes.

**Tea**

Morning tea was always relaxing for Arthur. It helped calm himself for the day ahead. Mallory knew this, and every so often came over to join him. But when she left, England was far from relaxed, and more ready to get aspirin for his migrane.

**Reluctant**

England had hurt her in the past. She knew it, and he knew it too. She never really got along with him. So why was she so reluctant to hate him?

**Irish Dance**

"Hey dude, Mal and Colin have got some pretty wicked steps up there!" observed Alfred.

"Pff" Arthur grumbled, "All they're doing is fancy hopping."

But Arthur was actually thinking about how he wanted to dance up there with her and North Ireland, and have some fun. Not be downing a drink.

**Helper**

Colin Molony knew how his sister and adoptive brother England bickered all the time, but he could tell there was something between them. And he wanted that something to show up. So he was determined to make this night between the two memorable.

**Comfort**

Whenever her problems became too much to bear, she broke the brave face. The Englishman would wrap his arms around her, feeling the strength of her shaking sobs, and all the while he assured her it was going to be all right, and in his head...he apologized.

**Independence**

_1921_

Ireland kissed her little brother on the head, "Goodbye little Ire...no...wait...you're Northern Ireland now..."

The little boy had tears in his eyes, "Sissy, don't leave please!"

Her own eyes glistening, but smiling, she said, "I'm an independent country now...the free state of Ireland...and you get to be your own country now...isn't that exciting?...but I can't take care of you anymore...I'm sorry...but England will take care of you..."

England stood silent, and unmoving behind Northern Ireland, who was mumbling, "B-but, you can't! You're my sister!"

Ireland stood back up, and stared with an almost passionate fury in her eyes at England. She said with a flaming contempt, "You had better take good care of my brother, twat."

England snarled, "You can count on it, traitor."

Giving one last look at her little brother, she gave a sad broken smile, and turned to leave, not looking back. She could hear Northern Ireland wail, "Baaaa! S-sissy! Sissy come baaaaack!" and as England gently took his hand, he choked on his sobs.

Ireland, tears of bittersweet victory on her face, stewed those last thoughts in her head, _He'd better take good care of him...and he will..._

**Family**

"Say Mal, you know when Colin came to live with me, he never called me his brother."

"Really? Not even once?" asked the suprised Irishwoman as they sat at the bar.

"Not once. He just called me Mr. Britain, Arthur, or England. But never Big Brother or anything like that. You want to know why?"

"Hm. Because you're a clod?"

Giving a sarcastic sneer in reply before he continued, Arthur said, "No, because he said you were his one and only sibling."

This caused Mallory to look up at the man drinking with her. "Really?"

Smiling and nodding, he answered, "Yes, he loves you that much."

Looking back down at her drink, Mallory smiled. _Knew I could count on you, North, to trust me._

**Clumsiness**

"I'm telling you, I've got this under control! Now keep the ladder stead-woah AAAAH!"

CRASH!

Mallory hurried over to the bushes to see if Arthur was alright. She couldn't help but cackle when she saw the paint bucket dripping on his head, as it covered half his face, and while he grumbled obscenities.

"Having a clumsy moment Artie?"

"Next time, you paint your own bloody house."

**Irresistable**

As the door slammed with frustration England drank his tea with a flushed face, and annoyed mood. God, that woman was infuriating. Ireland seemed to know just where to prod at in his head to tick him off. And she sure enjoyed it too. He didn't even have to look out the window to hear Ireland's loud, hearty, chuckles.

How he could have loved her, he would never know.

**Green**

When Arthur woke up in the hospital from his accident, he was able to tell that Mallory was the one who had sent the small, quiet bowl of shamrocks, which stood out among all the lovely roses and cheap gift shop flowers.

**Irish**

"Daddy! Look, my shamrocks grew!"

"You did a great job Molly, they're beautiful!"

The redhaired girl hopped over into the little patch, and began to hop excitedly, her green dress floating along with her. "Yay! The fairies are playing in them!"

Arthur couldn't help but smile at seeing the little pixies and magical creatures playing about in the little patch with his daughter. She looked back up at her father, her green eyes beaming joyfully. They almost matched the shamrocks which were bouncing and waving as she played excitedly in the patch.

"Hm, she's definitely got the look of an Irish." he thought out loud, quiet enough so the little girl wouldn't hear. "Perhaps even more than her mother."

This earned him a swat on the back of the head from Mal, who had been standing behind him quietly the whole time, watching her little one play in her garden. He looked at her in dazed surprise, but eventually turned back around with Mallory to smile at Molly.

**Eyebrows**

"Just a little trim." England thought, "They're too big anyway."

Ireland's eyebrows were naturally thick, but she had trimmed them, so they weren't as thick, and a bit more normal looking. So why not give it a try on his?

Unfortunately, after a sneeze whilst using the electric razor, a few "oops, let's just even that out"s, a couple "oh it's just a little mistake"s, and a few mingled in swear words, England barely had any eyebrows left.

As he embarrasedly walked hurriedly past Ireland, she said with a smirk, "Need a pen, Britain?"

It was hard to see if England was enraged or not without his eyebrows then.

**Cold**

Irish winters were not as bad as her Nordic friends', but they were able to to get cold rather fast. Mallory was never one fond of freezing cold, so when it got to the point where she would even hug Russia just to stay warm, she knew it was bad. It no doubt surprised her when Arthur crawled under the covers with her, and having grabbed a second blanket as well. As he draped the blanket over her, she snuggled into the blankets nudging towards the Englishman's body heat. She was asleep and warm within five minutes after he had wrapped his arms around her, keeping her cozy. His winters weren't so much better.

**Truth**

Many of the other nations believed that Ireland was nothing but a drunk, firey-tempered, old spinster. And even though he had started half these claims, England knew the true nature of her best. And couldn't help falling in love with it.

**Frustration**

England worried deeply that his little brother wasn't going to pull through, that this epidemic among the child nations was going to be the end of him. As much as he was annoyed by the pest, he didn't want to lose Sealand. The poor things face was flushed with horrible fever, and he was exhausted beyond all reason. He wasn't getting much better, but Ireland had insisted that she was giving him the proper treatment, and that he was just a slow healer. What did she know? How did she know so much about this stuff, and why the hell did he even trust her with taking care of these children? He had raised more colonies than she ever did, so what made her so smart? That's what he yelled at her in his frustration when she insisted that she was doing her job as a doctor to care for Liechtenstein, Latvia, Wy, and Sealand when they were ill.

"Sealand isn't even recovering!" he yelled, "You're probably making him sick!"

"His country is smaller and denser than the others, so it was easier for this to spread among his people! He'll be fine in no time!"

"Dammit Ireland, you don't even know what you're doing, do you?"

"I'm a doctor. I'm doing what I'm supposed to." she said angrily.

England, still glaring, said with spite, "Well it's a good thing you failed to ever become a mother, because you completely suck at it."

That last one hit Ireland like a torpedo at a submarine. It cracked her, no wait, it knocked her over, destroying whatever logic she could apply to that. He knew she had failed to have a child, the miscarriage and all, and how three children had died in her care during the flu epidemic almost a century ago. She had always wanted a child of her own, but hadn't had the chance to. So then, she had to care for the children who were sick as if they were her own. It broke her apart.

Without even changing her hateful expression towards the British man, she turned, and walked briskly out the door, leaving him in her house with the sick children.

_Let him take care of them, I don't care._

She continued walking out to her potato field, and when she passed by a large, thick, uprooted potato, she kicked it angrily with all her strength over the hill into her brother's sheep pasture. It landed over by a sleeping ewe, where it burst into little chunks, and startled the animal. She didn't care though.

She walked into the grassy knoll where Northern Ireland was tending an old ram gently. She walked up to him silently. As he turned to greet her, his smile slowly vanished as he saw her distraught face. He stared at her, and asked quietly, "_Ba_, sis, everything alright?"

She broke. He was rather surprised to see her face crumple, and the tears roll quickly, as she sobbed. He gently allowed her to sob into his trenchcoat, and they both kneeled down as she sobbed out her frustrations, her anger and hatred for England, and her mourning for her lost children of the past. The northern country simply comforted his sister with soothing words, and a warm embrace.

But later that day, when she finally told North what had happened, and what England had said to her, she was almost frightened, because she had NEVER in all her centuries and years, seen her brother, who was as gentle as his own lambs, unleash such a horrible verbal fury on England, or anyone for that matter. His usually calm green eyes were flaming with utmost anger, and violence. It scared her to see her brother's sweet face twisted with such a hateful look. She still was angry with England, but she reluctantly accepted his forced apology after seeing the bruises on his shoulders from North grabbing at them so violently. North's tirade was pretty convincing with him.

She couldn't thank North enough.

**Rain**

Arthur ran down the road, his pants soaked already when Mal had tripped him after she stole his umbrella. Her laughter had faded off in the rain. He grumbled, realizing she's probably be waiting back at his house, with look of victory on her face, and being equally wet, because she never held the damned umbrella upright.

He was right, and just as she was about to finish her little gloat, he kissed her on the nose. Because, damn it, that woman sure knew how to get him his exercise in the bad weather.

**Children**

Arthur had known of how Mallory had never succeeded having a child, how her only pregnancy when she was younger was a miscarriage, and how it depressed her. He realized how those motherly instincts she used to have returned when she took care of the younger ones. So she couldn't have been much happier when he offered to let her take care of his little brother Peter for a few days while his adoptive parents were away on business.

**Absent**

Alfred rushed hurriedly to his former mentor's home, and without knocking walked in the door. It was 8 AM, and Arthur had _promised_ to go with him to the meeting regarding economic comparisons. He was supposed to have come to his house 30 minutes ago, and he wasn't even there.

Alfred barged up the stairs, and swung open the Englishman's door. "Hey Iggy? What the heck, you're late! You were supposed t-...oh..."

The younger country was stuck staring at a sleeping Arthur and Mallory, snuggled together in bed, clothes strewn on the ground as though they had been thrown off in a frenzy. A subconscious smile was on their faces as Arthur had snaked his arms around Mal, embracing her warmly.

_Iggy and Mal? In bed? TOGETHER? That must've been some night._

Blushing profusely, Alfred closed the door, and left. He could just call China to accompany him.

**Supersticion**

She threw salt over her left shoulder when it spilled, but it hit him right in the eye. Not her fault he had tried to scare her at the wrong time. Now she had to help the cursing man wash out his eye.

**Heal**

She had always had a touch for taking care of people, and nursing those who were ill back to better health. She knew how to heal people, and had a motherly instinct to her work. What frightened her the most was when she couldn't use those tactics on the man she loved, and had to watch him slip farther each day.

**Lucky**

"Sharn'd shame. I can't seem to find the blasted four-leaf you were talking about Arthur." she said disappointedly as they walked in the clover field.

"It's around here somewhere. I know it is."

"Well let's hope so. If you find one, then you're said to be the luckiest person around."

He shrugged with a smirk, "I've heard those Irish tales of yours Mal. Everything centers around luck, doesn't it?"

"Yeh, more or less."

Arthur turned his head towards a little bare spot. "H-hey! There it is! I found the clover!"

Mal turned over to where he pointed and went closer to the patch to examine it. She saw the shamrock, small and dainty.

_Arthur's plan had worked._

"Arthur, there it is! It's real tiny though and-"

She had turned, and saw, with a bit of a startle, Arthur, on the ground on one knee, looking up at her, smiling, as he held open a little box with a ring; a diamond and emerald sharing the silver band.

"Mallory Quinn, will you marry me?"

Her mouth agape, her eyes began to beam brightly with emotion, and trying not to break down crying, she said breathlessly, "Y-yeh...alright... yes...yes of course..."

Embracing her with passion and happiness, feeling her collapse, he whispered in her ear, "I truly am the luckiest person. In the whole world."

**Costume**

Ireland had forgotten to tell England the costume party after the meeting was postponed for the following week, so she couldn't hold back her laughter (nor could anyone else) when he walked through the door in pirate garb. So for the rest of the day, everyone was convinced he was drunk.

**Inconceivable**

"Huh? I don't get it."

"No,no, see, the cat is acting as though it wants the hamburger. That's why it's happy, get it?"

"Well, why would a cat want a hamburger?"

"Because somebody thought that cats probably speak in baby-talk and like cheeseburgers! That's why! It's supposed to be funny!"

"I don't get what's so funny though."

"Ugh! Mal, you're slower than a snail!"

Arthur never tried to explain Lolcats to her again.

**Warm**

The night had gotten cold, but following mutual admissions of love, and passionate kisses, Arthur and Mallory embraced each other. Late that night, they made love in the dark but moon tinted room, and after that, neither had acknowledged that the weather outside was chilling cold, for they were nice and warm in each other's company.

**Brother**

England felt guilty for breaking off his relationship with America, because he was now so heartbroken. But he couldn't stand it, knowing that whenever he stared at America, he wouldn't stop seeing the little boy he had once cared and loved for and who he had once called his brother.

**Hair**

Letting down her shoulder length russet-orange hair, Ireland put on her lucky hat. Having her hair ususally in a bun, it surprised England no doubt that his neighboring former nation had changed her hairstyle. Her hair looked very flat and smooth, and he couldn't help but wonder what it felt like.

**Gentleman**

Ireland thought that once again, she'd be stuck staying home alone for the nations' yearly ball, and get drunk. Nobody really tried asking her to it, and Scotland had never taken the initiative. What surprised her most was either the fact that somebody secret had called her telling her to wear something for the dance, or the fact that the person was the self proclaimed English 'gentlemen' England, with a corsage in hand. The dance had gone well, and he at least was courteous to her the whole night, not bickering with her as usual. She had to admit it was a nice evening, even if he had taken her out of pity or a dare. When he escorted her home, he asked her with a smirk, "Why didn't you even try to kick me off?"

She muttered under her breath, cheeks tinged faintly with pink, "Well I wasn't going to let the corsage go to waste."

**Sick**

When she herself, a doctor, became ill, it was sometimes easy to cure herself, and sometimes, she felt absolutely worthless. On that one day where she didn't even bother getting out of bed and getting ready to go to the meeting, a few nations noticed, but only Arthur had decided to check up on Mallory. When he saw how sick she looked, he didn't hesitate in checking her temperature, giving her some ice water, and hot tea, and a fresh blanket.

She grumbled tiredly, "Blarney, why did ye come over here?"

He simply gave a little chuckle, "Don't doctors need a nurse every so often?"

**Expecting**

She didn't know wether to be happy or worried when she had looked at the results of the pregnancy test. She was happy to finally have another chance again, and not have to experience that feeling of emptyness of the womb, and of the cradle; but she still had one problem.

Arthur didn't know about this.

**Jealous**

Scotland didn't get it. What did she see in his little brother that made him better?

**Late night**

England hated having so much paperwork. It seemed that most of it just came out of nowhere. He hated staying up late for it.  
>Ireland decided to give him an energy boost by spiking his tea with a little whiskey and caffeine. She was disappointed that it didn't go according to plan, as he ended up stumbling out of his chair, drunk, and having had an energy crash.<p>

"Stupid bloke." she muttered, as she lifted the poor man off the floor and put him on his couch with a shamrock printed blanket.

**Argument**

"Oy! Wear the plaid one first!"  
>"Wear the knit one!"<p>

Mallory gave a little snort. She couldn't help but find it funny when Angus and Arthur fought over what gifted hat she should wear on her birthday.

**Bunnies**

England reminded himself to never show Ireland his pet rabbits again, after she remarked on how they might have tasted good in stew.

**Battlefield**

When the smoke from the muskets' final shots had cleared, the Englishman looked around, somewhat satisfied from the results of the battle. The French had retreated, and no casualties from his men. He looked around to see his Irish friend, a battlefield nurse, standing over by a Frenchman's corpse. He could see from where he was standing, that her face was blank.

"Mallory, it's alright, you can come back over here."

Her skin was turning slightly pale, and her face had a twist of pain.

"Mal, are you all right? I-"

He stopped, his eyes had gazed to a dark red stain steadily growing by her stomach, coloring her white apron and dress. Her body was shaking, and she was about ready to fall.

"Oh my god...Mal!" he shouted, horrified, running over to her, seeing her stagger, and caught her as she began to collapse over.

He kneeled to the ground and still holding her, murmured assurances in his head that she would be all right, and that they would get help.

"Damnit Mal! How could you let this happen!" he cried, trying to stop the bleeding from the gunshot wound. He cried for someone to help, and shouted for another nurse to come help her.

Murmuring, exhausted, she said, "Sorry. Nurses don't deflect bullets. We're not bulletproof..."

He cursed, and then said his eyes clouded with emotion, "You shouldn't have wasted time saving those frogs anyway! No use in it if you were going to-"

She stopped him there, gripped his hand, and said firmly, but weakly, "My job as a nurse is to heal anyone who is hurt, even froggies. I guess you blokes were too good, Mr. Kirkland."

Her eyes were starting to close, too weak to keep them open. Breathing was almost 100% effort, and painful.

"No...No! NO! Damnit Mal, you bloody git, don't die on me!"

"I'm sorry..."

"Mal! Mallory! Please don't leave me, I love you! I love you so much!" he cried, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks.

"I love you too Arthur. I won't ever leave you, I promise..."

Her eyes shut after that, her body having wore out. Her hand went limp in his own.

"N-no! Mal! Wake up Mallory! Wake up!"

She couldn't hear him or answer him.

Choking out sobs, he pleaded with her to wake up, and said he loved her over and over. He was only able to quiet down a little once a nurse had finally run over. She checked Mallory for a pulse and heartbeat. She sat up, and said sadly, "I'm sorry sir, I'm afraid she's dead."

Arthur broke down, holding his lost love close. He blubbered out her name, exclaiming his love, and kept screaming, "No! No, it's not true! Not true!"

The young nurse left him alone to grieve. He continued sobbing for what seemed like forever. Mallory's cold form had never gotten a bit warmer.

What frightened Arthur for the rest of his life was the fact that he'd never figured out which side had fired the shot that had hit her.

Soon, a statistics recorder went over to Arthur, and asked almost obliviously, "How many casualties on this side?"

Shuddering, giving another quiet sob, he murmured, "One."

**Cooking**

When the meal he had tried to prepare ended up turning into pitch black inedible clumps, Ireland glared at England, and said, "Take a cooking class or I'll kill you."

**Guilt**

She had never felt so guilty in her entire life, when her friend Scotland had admitted he liked her, but she couldn't say she liked him back. She could have lied, but, instead she had to break poor Angus' heart.

**Fatherhood**

When she had told Arthur, he nearly had a panic attack, screaming about how the hell it could have happened. Ireland tried to calm him down, but with little success.

She walked off, knowing that after some thinking, he'd be happy to be a father.

**Destruction**

As the city of London was left smoldering, Britain was on his knees, despairing over this tragedy. Ireland watched from a distance, dirtied, and fatigued from the disaster, but at least her country was unharmed. She could only watch painfully though as her neighbor nation suffered.

**Creatures**  
>The little chestnut fairy giggled in her little happy way as the leprechaun took her by the hand. They floated up into the tree branches, and sat on one that overlooked a park bench. On that bench sat an Englishman and Irishwoman. It looked as though they were on a date. The two creatures looked at each other. Matchmaking time! The fairy showered magic glitter onto the girl, while the leprechaun dumped a bunch of shamrocks out of thin air onto the man.<p>

Ireland sneezed as the glitter got in her face, and England spat out a clover. They both looked up, and saw the mischievous creatures in the tree.

"Ha-ha. Very funny." mumbled England.

**Lost**

When the russet haired girl went missing, and no trace had been left of her last appearance, Arthur pretended to not be bothered by it, but by the time it seemed hopeless, he was the one to burst out of a meeting, almost a wreck. When they found her safe, but hungry and exhausted aftger being lost, he nearly broke down crying with relief.

**Cake**

Mal liked making it, and she'd never tell Arthur the recipe for her best dish of cake. Even if she won his heart.

**Immature**

They whined and yelled, and began to slap each other in a manner termed by Alfred "sissy-slapping". Their argument was pretty stupid, but England and Ireland were naturally feuding countries. By the time they were pulled apart, they had forgotten what on earth they had been arguing about.

**Embrace**

Mal looked at the small ring on her finger with a smirk. It gave a little sparkle with the starlights.

Arthur lay down next to her, on the grassy knoll, and as she slowly dozed off, he wrapped his arms around her, gazing up at the night sky. The clover patches at night were amazing stargazing seats.

**Tenderness**

She shakily handed the newborn to Arthur, who's eyes were glistening with tears of happiness. He was about ready to crack, he studied his son's little features; the russet hair, and thick little eyebrows, with the utmost tenderness.

Mal gave a weak smile, pride glowing from her expression. _Dublin looked so much like him..._

**Taste the Rainbow**

No matter how much America tried to convince her, Ireland said Skittles were not a lucky candy, because they just tasted like fruit. There was no way she'd find a pot of gold at the end. Arthur had eaten quite a few, so when she kissed him, he tasted like a mix of sweet fruity candies. _Rainbows_ she thought.

**Lifetime**

"I'm lucky enough to last a lifetime." Ireland said to herself as she dozed off in her shamrock field next to England and her brother.

**Revive**

As Arthur dragged the motionless young man out of the trench of water, Mal ran over, horrified, and grasped at his wet, clinging cloak.

"Colin! Oh god, Colin, wake up!"

Her brother didn't move, drenched, bruised, and limp. He didn't even breathe, or flicker his eyes.

"N-north! Wake up, please!" she pleaded. She shook him, but no answer.

Arthur cringed, having to hear the pained pleas of the older sister of Northern Ireland. But he knew there was probably no better outlook. The invasion from an unknown country had damaged Northern Ireland greatly, bruising Colin, and the storm and floods had covered much of the land in water. But still, Colin didn't let his people die. He had stayed behind during the storm to make sure that his people, and animals were safe, in England or Ireland's safer shelters. The last his sister had seen of him before this, he had been standing by the low crest of the pasture, leading the sheep to higher ground.

Ireland and England could have both said then and there that of all the countries, Northern Ireland was one of the bravest.

For some fewer minutes, Ireland pressed onto her brother's chest, giving him a few mouth-to-mouth breaths every so often, trying to expel any water from his lungs, to get him to breathe, and wake him, but there was little effect. The smaller country remained still.

"Colin! North! Wake up! Little brother, please wake up!" Mal pleaded hysterically, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Mallory..." England quivered softly, "I'm afraid it's too late..."

"No! N-no,no,no,no!" she exclaimed, tears still flowing. She choked out a sob, breaking down, cradling her little brother. She didn't want to believe that her sweet, gentle, little brother Colin, was dead.

"I'm so sorry...but his country was probably too damaged to carry on."

Mal shuddered, about to collapse with her sobs. Arthur wrapped a comforting arm around her, allowing her to crumble in his hold.

"What a brave gentleman he was..." he murmured as he rubbed the sobbing nation's back, caringly. He had cared for the nation like a brother, and now it seemed almost unreal that he was gone. He didn't deserve to die, he was too calm and caring to go like this.

But neither Mal nor Arthur would have expected North to suddenly shoot up, eyes wide, coughing up water, and gasping for air. They jumped back a little, watching as the smaller country wretched, spitting up water. He slouched over, caught his breath, then sat up.

"Ungh, what happ-"

Colin couldn't finish his sentence, as his sister lunged for him, and grabbed him in a tight hug. Sobbing, she got out, "I-I thought you were dead. Don't ever scare me like that again."

"...euh?..._Baaa_...I'm sorry sis. I didn't mean to upset you." he said hoarsely.

She nuzzled her little brother affectionately, "Ta gra agam duit, Colin."

Weakly, still bruised and tired, he hugged her back, "I love you too, Mallory."

England, relieved, watched as the two sibling nations embraced, not knowing when they'd pull apart.

**Beauty**

Ireland was not quite drop dead gorgeous, but not in the least bit ugly. She trimmed her eyebrows regularly, detesting their thickness. She didn't know why England or Scotland liked her appearance.

**Black Eye**

As the young girl wrapped a bandage over the grumpy blonde boy's bruised eye, she turned to her little brother, and said, "And that Colin, is why we don't throw potatoes by surprise."

Colin fidgeted, embarrassed.

**St. Patty's**

England groaned, having seen the meeting room's makeover. Green chairs, green floor, green paint freshly coating the walls. Shamrocks decorated the room everywhere. And at the front of the table sat the Irish siblings, grinning from ear to ear, decked out completely in green attire, and each with a mug of beer in hand. Germany, who had been the first one there was buried in shamrocks, an Irish hat, and yes, a pipe. He seemed rather annoyed by the two nation's enthusiasm, but seemed a little overwhelmed by the decoration, and didn't bother taking it off.

"'Ey England, like our decor?" piped up Ireland, who proceeded to fill her mug once more.

"Remind me not to ever schedule a meeting on St. Patricks Day ever again." muttered Germany. England simply gave a sigh, and took his seat, which was cushioned by a mound of clovers.

**Farmer**

Ireland was naturally, one for farming. Her potato field was incredibly large, and during the summer, she'd be on lookout, to make sure the wilder animals or runaway sheep would not eat the plants. Her shot with a pellet gun was great, but her eyesight did not reach far. She should have remembered how England had offered to water her garden that evening, but now she had to tend the sore wound on his bottom from the pellets.

**Attacked**

The bruises and scrapes on her face and arms would go away the doctor had said. The knife cuts on the chest would heal, but no doubt scar. But the doctor didn't tell if one more thing would heal: her normally snarky yet cheerful outlook. It had been beaten down with the skin. Now all that sat on her face was a blank despondent expression, with just a twinge of fear.

As Arthur held her close, tears ran down his cheeks, not because of the scars, the vile act the culprit did, or hate, but out of shame that he wasn't there to protect her.

**Intimate**

As he planted soft kisses on her shoulders and neck, she whimpered, rubbing the back of his neck lovingly. He lifted his head to kiss her on the mouth, and they stayed glued together until oxygen became necessary. She turned her head to kiss his jaw, until he gripped her harder. He moaned, "Mal...Bloody git..."

She kissed the crook of his neck, "Not my fault you're so horny, you british bonk."

Kissing her back, Arthur then said, blushing, "Um...I'm a little uncomfortable leaning against this wall...perhaps we should-"

"Take it to your room? Right. It's much more comfortable there."

Smiling sneakily, he lifted her bridal style and down the hall.

**Together**

"When the end of the world ever does come, you'll stay next to me, right England?"

"No duh, you bloody shamrock-fanatic. We're situated right next to each other."

"Oh yeah."

**Prank**

Mallory ducked into the pile of hay. She punched the smallest hole into the pile, so she could see when Arthur would walk by.  
>About three minutes later, the shaggy-haired man walked by, carrying a sack of wheat out of Colin's barn. He let out a yelp when the Irish woman leaped out of the hay pile, and grabbed him in a bear hug, dragging him back over to the hay pile, making both of them flop over. She still had her arms around him, and her head rested on his shoulder content. Arthur spat out some hay in his mouth, and realizing he'd never get out of her grasp, snaked his arms over and around her, resting his chin on her head.<p>

**Bad Influence**

Arthur put his hand on his son's shoulder, and looking at him straight in the eyes, said, "Patrick, whatever you do, do not listen to your mother when she's drunk. Even if she's trying to be dead serious."

The boy nodded, seeing his mother yelling at the potatoes in the field, calling them "slackers".

**Recovery**

Mallory rushed to the hospital as quickly as she could. And that was pretty fast for an Irishwoman.  
>She waited anxiously, tears slowly crawling down her cheeks. The doctor walked into the room, telling her,<br>"Mrs. Kirkland, your husband is going to be all right. He's pretty banged up, but it's nothing that we can't care for."  
>Relief flowed through her, and she then was allowed to go to the Englishman's room.<p>

**Charms**

"I've got the horseshoes, shamrocks, and three lucky rabbit's feet. And some gold, and a couple little plastic 7's."

Ireland turned to England, "Okay, ready to go."

England grumbled. She did this for every date with him.

**Waiting**

On March 16th at 11:00 pm, Mallory would stay up on her porch, waiting for midnight, and once the clock struck twelve, she's flash multiple green lights, and have a late night party with North. England sat up grumbling, from his bed. He could see from his window the faint glow of green, and loud celtic music.

He couldn't help but laugh at how the two siblings celebrated their holiday.

**Drinking song**

When it came down to singing at the bar, Mallory and Arthur sang the loudest, but for the shortest time, because they'd topple over.

They considered each other the best drinking buddy they'd ever had.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: IT'S SO FLUFFY...and a lot of them suck I'm sorry. I fixed the name North Ireland, to Northern Ireland (I had a B in history class XDDD )**

**Please comment or review!**


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